Out of this world
by onlyone87
Summary: He had seated himself in the waiting room chair, willing her to remember.  Remember that he loved her. That he needed her in the same way he needed air to breath. Set three months after Knockout.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Set a few months after the events of Knockout. If you haven't seen it I wouldn't read this. Unless of course you don't care about spoilers. Anyway... Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing owned by me. The title of the story is taken from the song of the same name by Bush. Worth a listen. Trust me.**

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><p>Disorientated and dishevelled, Richard Castle paused in the doorway of his bedroom, taking a moment to rub his eyes and wipe away the last remnants of sleep.<p>

He was still exhausted after having spent the past week searching for an elusive killer amongst a tangled web of lies and deceit. Finally, this morning a sudden hole had appeared in some witness statements and the case had eventually drawn to a close. The accused now in a cell, and him being allowed to come home, shed his clothes and crash onto his bed. Slumber taking hold of him far quicker then he had expected.

At least until a loud knocking had disrupted his dreams of a certain policewoman. With a quick glance at the bedside clock, followed sharply by another, longer look, because really, who would be at the door at three thirty in the morning. He had risen from his comfortable position with some reluctance.

Leaning briefly against the doorframe, a loud yawned escaped his lips as he stretched his arms. He was waiting a moment. Sure enough, another knock sounded and he felt his shoulders slump. The confirmation had been made. He hadn't been dreaming and there really was someone at the door.

So with heavy feet he began a slow walk down the hall. His hand groping the wall blindly for the elusive light switch, managing to come across it far quicker then normal. However, he was not fast enough, as his foot suddenly became entangled in the material of the coat he had left laying in a heap by his door.

Careening forward, he crashed to the floor in a heap. His hands barely coming up with enough time to stop his face from meeting the carpet.

"Crap," he muttered, slowly pushing himself to his knees. Wincing as he put too much weight on his left one. He was sure to bruise.

"You okay," a voice called from the upper level.

"Yeah. Fine." His words were short as he brought himself to a standing position. He had been hoping to get to the door before his family woke.

Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck he kicked the coat away, before moving more slowly and a little more cautiously to the door.

"Told you to pick it up."

The voice of concern was closer this time, and he turned to the staircase finding his daughter descending the steps with more grace then him at this time in the morning.

"And I thank you," he replied, fixing her with a raised eyebrow.

"Should've listened."

"Well I do apologise."

A yawn escaped her as she reached the bottom step.

"Sorry. I was hoping to get the door before you woke."

"It's alright," she replied with a small shrug. "I was awake anyway."

"Really." Moving past her, he ruffled her hair affectionately, ducking as she went to catch him with her hand.

"No. But I was curious."

Another knock caught his answer before it could leave his lips and he moved towards the sound once more.

"Would one of you get the door?"

"Sorry." Father and daughter replied in unison as their gazes turned to the top stair, where Martha was beginning to descend.

Rolling her eyes, she came to a stop beside her granddaughter, linking their arms together. "I keep telling him to get Butler," she said casually.

"And I keep telling you Mother, that's pretentious."

"He would have been there quicker but he was busy familiarising himself with the carpet," Alexis added with a grin.

"The coat," Martha answered, earning a nod from the young girl.

"Anyway," Rick stated loudly, grabbing their attention. Hand resting on the door handle he turned to them with a mischievous look. "Who do we think it is?"

"My money's on Detective Beckett," Alexis stated confidently.

"Of course it is." Her Grandmother added.

"Please." Swinging the door open, he fixed them with shake of his head. "We all know that Beckett is at home i-."

"Hi Kate." His daughter greeted, cutting off his point and making his gaze swing around to the entrance.

"Beckett."

The woman in question however seemed completely oblivious to the Castle clan watching her. Arms folded and bottom lip between her teeth she appeared to be utterly distant. Staring vacantly at the floor by his feet.

"Beckett," he repeated. He was instantly worried. Dressed in loose joggers and NYPD hoodie she seemed smaller then normal making him take a hesitant step toward her.

There was something wrong. He hadn't seen her look this lost since the hospital three months ago. She had been so broken when she had come out of the medical induced coma they had placed her in so she could heal. But after spending time in the Castle home, under almost complete supervision she had seemed to return to normal.

Or as normal as she would be.

Of course, her staying here for a few weeks had angered her boyfriend. But really what did he expect when he worked at all hours and kept taking frequent trips to some remote destination. So seeing as Josh couldn't do it, the task had fallen to him.

And he had gladly accepted it.

After all his feelings for her had finally taken it upon themselves to form some kind of coherent structure. Even if they had waited until she was at deaths door. When he had collided with her in the cemetery, the declaration he had never seen himself making had been pulled from him with such brutal force it had then taken him a few hours for the clarity to fall upon him.

The realisation had then shown itself in the waiting room. He loved her. Was in love with her. So while the others had been seated outside her hospital room willing her to survive, he had been seated there willing her to remember.

To remember his words to her. To remember he needed her in the same way he needed air to breath.

But his illusion had been shattered when she had woken. Because either she really didn't remember or she wasn't letting herself admit it. And he had found himself for the second time that day with his heart breaking.

So he had gone home to collect himself. To allow his mother and daughter to see his tears as they had comforted him, because they had heard him. Everyone had heard him. Apart from her. Finally, after a night of mourning the dream he had allowed himself to indulge in within the hospital walls he had pulled himself together. Making the others promise not to say anything about his declaration.

And then he had gone back to her. Smile on his face and heart aching inside. He had offered his spare room. He had helped nurse her back to health. He had stayed beside her on her first day back in the precinct. He had done everything he could to be the best friend she needed.

Still when all was said and done, she had eventually moved back home and gone back to spending her nights with Motorcycle Boy. While he could do nothing but watch.

"Dad."

His daughter's voice broke his train of thought and he blinked a few times as his vision cleared. Remembering the current situation, he looked over at the urging looks from his family, before turning back to the woman in the doorway. "Kate," he whispered, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm.

The effect was instantaneous as she jumped and looked up at him, shaking her head to clear her mind.

"Hey," he said softly. Aware that too much movement from him would probably make her bolt. She really was like a caged animal sometimes. Not that he would ever tell her that. He wasn't stupid, nor suicidal.

"You love me."

The silence that followed her blurted statement was uncomfortable to say the least. Even she appeared to be shocked at her words.

"I..." Trailing off he took a deep breath as he watched her with some confusion. That was definitely unexpected. "What?"

Straightening her shoulders, she lifted a hand slowly before pointing at him. More confidence in her actions this time. "You. Love." Turning her hand, she indicated herself. "Me." Then with a decisive nod, she stepped past him and entered the apartment.

Looking shell-shocked, he ran a hand through his hair as he turned. His eyes meeting the stunned looks of his daughter and mother before finding the woman who held his heart.

Maybe. Just maybe. He had been wrong to right her off so soon.

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><p><strong>AN: There will be another part. Most probably. Would love to know what you think though.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while but I hit a bit of a wall. Thank you to anyone who alerted this story and reviewed. Makes my day. I apologise in advance. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, nothing owned.**

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><p>His stance was rigid, his back stiff and his muscles beginning to ache from the lack of movement. He'd reached the point where he was barely breathing as he tried to make as little noise as possible.<p>

The reason for this was the Detective before him. He was frightened that the slightest thing would send her bolting back through the front door. And right now, he would do anything to get the answers he wanted. He needed them. His head had filled with so many questions he was having difficulty distinguishing between them and his coherent thoughts.

So he waited.

And waited.

Moving his gaze a little to the left, he sighed as he noted the time. Five minutes had gone by now. Five minutes since she had blurted out the knowledge of his declaration and his family had departed to go upstairs, giving them some privacy. Although if he was a betting man, he would place his stake on the fact that although his mother and daughter had gone, they were still well within earshot. Eagerly waiting for something to happen. But still, out of sight, out of mind.

And he let them have that because right now he had more pressing matters to deal with.

Turning back to his favourite point of interest, he cast a gaze over her face, willing her mouth to open and for something to fall from her delicate lips. He just wanted some form of acknowledgement because he wasn't entirely sure if she knew he was still here. Clearing his throat, he realised that she would probably not speak unless he pressed. That was after all how their entire relationship worked. Making a fast decision, he stepped forward, the intention to touch her evident on his face as he reached an arm towards her.

"I keep having this dream."

The words flew from her lips with such speed she startled him. Whipping his hand back to his side as she turned her head to him, he watched as her gaze met his own. He just hoped she hadn't seen his actions, but from the look in her eyes, he knew he'd been caught.

"Yeah," he answered, cringing as his voice came out as more of a croak.

Nodding, she tightened her arms around her middle, in what appeared to be an attempt at holding herself together. She then looked away.

The change in her, from the time he had opened the door to now was startling. She'd gone from being sure of her words, to reverting into herself. All he knew was that she needed him. "Kate," he said softly, waiting for her eyes to meet his. When she found his gaze, he implored her to trust his words, "you can talk to me."

Swallowing, she held his gaze for a moment before looking down at the carpet by his feet. Her face held no signs that she had heard him speak, but thankfully, he had known her long enough now to notice the barely perceptible twitch of her mouth and the faintest twitch of her eyebrow.

She had heard him just fine. She was just taking the time to process, and he would allow her all the time she needed. Resigning himself to the possibilty of another silent five minutes, he allowed the breath he had been holding to escape his mouth.

"It's always the same."

His gaze shot back to her form as her voice carried softly around the room. He hadn't noticed until now how quiet it really was. Nodding he waited for her to continue.

"I'm at the funeral. And everyone's watching me because I'm stood there saying those words. Those words that looking back at it are so ridiculous it's almost laughable. They're meant to make things better. Me, standing there, in front of everyone and saying what kind of man he was is meant to take away the pain of loosing him. But they don't work. They don't make it better. Because they can't."

Dropping her arms, she looked at him then, her face looking so distraught his heart began to ache. He craved to go to her, to hold her close and never let her go, but he couldn't. She needed to do this. So he stayed still once more.

"Saying sorry and being the one to talk about him doesn't help anybody. I know that because I've done it before. It never helps. But what's worse is the fact that I'm standing there lying. Because nothing can change the fact that he knew."

"Oh." The exclamation escaped him and he held still, luckily she never heard him. It all made sense to him now. Why she had seemed so weighed down with everything the past few months. Berating himself, he shook his head. It had been so obvious and he hadn't caught onto the fact. He'd been an idiot.

"She was my mother."

Her words drew him from his thoughts and he focused on her once more.

"And all along he knew. He knew who'd killed her. But he still let me go on trusting him. Watching me all those years as I worked myself into a dark hole trying to find the bastard that had killed her. And all along, he knew. I trusted him. I thought he was my friend."

Turning away sharply she showed him her back as she tried to calm her breathing. She'd worked herself up and was slowly loosing the grip she normally had on her emotions.

But she'd been to slow, because he'd seen it. He'd noticed the tears in her eyes, and the panic on her face, as she'd begun to lose her control. And as she began to break and fall, he moved forward to catch her. Reaching her in no time at all, he stopped sharply at her back, his chest meeting the fabric of the hoodie she wore. Reaching up he gripped her arms above the elbow, holding them gently in his hands, as he leant forward, his forehead meeting the back of her head. "Shh," he whispered softly, trying to soothe her. "Breath."

Feeling her nod, he closed his eyes as he let the scent of her shampoo wash over him. "Just breathe Kate." Slowly she began to calm, relaxing into his embrace and leaning back slightly. He savoured the moment because he knew what would happen next. She was nothing if not predictable with her emotions.

Suddenly she stiffened, and he sighed. There she went. Letting go of her arms, he opened his eyes, watching her mournfully as she stepped away from him. It was now he realised the one thing he wanted more then anything.

For her to actually see him as the man he was. As the man, he could be if only she let him.

"I told him I forgave him," she whispered, the haunting evidence of tears still in her voice. "And I do. It's just... it's still there. I think the fact that I keep dreaming about it is making worse. All I want to do is forget what happened, but I can't."

"Kate," he breathed, resisting the urge to reach out to her again.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, careful to keep her back to him as she continued, "Saying the words aren't the worst part though. It's trying to find somewhere to look."

"Why?"

"Because I can't look at them. His family," she elaborated, folding her arms once more. "I can't watch them mourn him. Because every time I do, every time I look at them I see my father, on his knees and beating his fists against my mother's coffin. When he lied to me, he destroyed my memories."

"I'm sorry." He wasn't sure why he was apologising but it seemed like the right thing for him to say. She needed to know that he wanted to help her, that he understood. So he said sorry, not because of what she was going through, but because he couldn't take the pain away for her. He was sorry, because as the man who loved her he should be able to save her.

"Why," she asked, spinning around to look at him. Nothing on her face revealed her earlier breakdown. The tears were gone, taken over by the confusion as she tilted her head.

"Because..." Trailing off he looked down and sighed.

"Don't be sorry. You're the one who helped me."

"I didn't do anything," he argued.

Hearing her move forward, he felt her fingers rest on his chin as she tilted his head up to meet his eyes. "I couldn't look at them, so I turned to you. But when I did, you were already watching me. And it's different to all the other stares. It's comforting, almost like it helps me to breath. I think it's because I know you'll always be there when you watch me. And I know I never say it, but to be honest with you... I like knowing you have my back."

"Always," he stated, looking at her intently. Her finger still rested on his chin as he regarded her for a moment, noticing the exact second that her eyes flitted down to his lips before she pulled away, her arm dropping down to side, and her gaze moving to the floor.

"You know what's stupid though. When I felt that burning in my chest the first thing I thought was how angry I was. At you."

"Me," he whispered, taken back by her sudden accusation. It hurt.

"Yeah. I never fell to the floor, because you caught me. You would've jumped in front of that bullet if you'd been a bit faster."

"So?"

"What do you mean so?" Frustration creeping into her face as she shot him a look, her eyes blazing. "You can't take a bullet for me."

"Why not?"

"Because you have a family."

"So do you," he argued.

"I have my father. He knows what I do is dangerous. But you... Martha and Alexis wouldn't survive. You owe them more then that, and I won't be responsible for you getting hurt."

"This isn't about them," he stated, noticing her stiff posture.

"Yes it is. It has to be."

"Why."

Glaring at him for a second, she seemed ready to argue, before seeming to change her mind. Shaking her head, she let her shoulders slump as the fight left her. "You spoke to me," she said, changing the subject abruptly. "And when I heard you begging me to stay I forgot why I was angry. You know I really did think that it would always be a bullet responsible for my death. But it wasn't until it actually happened that I realised how unprepared I was. And that frightened me. I guess I finally realised what you had been trying to tell me."

"What was that?" He asked.

"That if dying is what it takes to find my mother's killer then it's not worth it. I wanted to live. Right then, when the burning took over I wanted to tell you I would try to fight. Because you deserved more then that. You deserved an apology for the way I treated you. For kicking you out of my apartment. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay."

"No it's not. You were only trying to help and I was horrible to you. You're always only trying to help. But I couldn't tell you that at the time no matter how much I wanted to. I just hoped you knew."

"I knew," he answered, stepping towards her. "And I forgave you the moment your door shut. You should know by now Kate that I can never stay angry at you."

"But why. I treated you worse then I would treat a criminal Rick. You should've been running for the hills."

"You know why," he replied, staring at her intently.

"No I don't," she denied, shaking her head.

Her wide eyes gave her away and he clued into her immediately. "Yes. You do," he insisted.

Swallowing, she nodded ever so slightly, and if he had blinked, he would have missed it. "Because you love me," she stated.

Nodding he took another step towards her. "I love you," he repeated, utter sincerity in his voice.

"Oh." Looking down, she closed her eyes and dropped her arms. "I wasn't... couldn't, work out if it was just because you... if maybe it was because you thought I was..." She stumbled over her words before finally trailing off, a blush gradually making its way across her cheekbones.

"Going to die," he finished for her. Sighing he reached out his hand to her arm and pulled her slowly towards him, reaching up with his free hand to push some loose strands of her hair behind her ear. The smoothness of her skin astounding him for the moment as he searched her eyes. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. And all he could think of was how mesmerising she was, and she seemed to have no real idea.

"Kate," he whispered, waiting for her eyes to meet his. As they did, he offered her a small smile, and began a gentle stroke of her cheek with his thumb, his other hand clasping the one she had placed on his chest unconsciously.

Taking a deep breath, he began, "you laying there just made me realise how stupid we'd been. I'd taken you for granted, working on the theory that we would get there eventually. But I was wrong, because I came so close to losing everything. And the ridiculous thing is that I would've lost something that was never mine. I should have told you before."

"Told me what," she breathed, seemingly under a trance.

"That I do love you and I don't want anyone else. Just you. And I am willing to wait for you for as long as deem necessary. Because..."

"You love me," she repeated softly, finishing his sentence.

Nodding, he smiled at her, urging her to believe him. "I do."

Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she looked down at his mouth before moving back to meet his intense gaze. Slowly she began to move towards him, lifting her head ever so slightly as her breathing grew shallow.

"Kate," he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers, so close that he could feel her warm breathing touching his lips. His heart was hammering in his chest and his brain shut down as her hand fisted in his shirt, drawing him closer.

But before he could reach her, a crash sounded out from across the room and she jumped back. Whipping his head around, he cursed, noting the shattered vase on the floor by the open window. It was like the scene from a bad romance movie and he wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. He'd been so close. So achingly close to having everything and it had been torn from him with such force it left him hurting and wanting to cry out in pain.

He knew what was coming, and with trepidation he turned to look at her. "Kate," he said quietly. It was almost frightening, the way he watched the emotion vanish from her features. She was a master at hiding her features, but as he looked closer, he noticed the loss in her eyes. "Please." He wanted to beg her to stay, to fall to his knees and wrap his arms around her legs until she was forced to face up to her feelings. But he wouldn't because he knew it would never achieve anything.

"I should go," she whispered, clearing her throat. Stepping backwards, she dropped his hand. He hadn't even realised they were still connected, but the coldness left in his palm at her movement was breaking him.

"Don't," he pleaded.

"I have to." Stepping backwards, she turned to the door and swung it open. "It's late." Moving into the hall she went to pull the door shut but not before looking at him over her shoulder, "I'm sorry, but I just... I can't do this."

Then she was gone. As quickly, as she had come into the apartment Kate Beckett had fled. Running away yet again, and leaving him alone. Because maybe, he just wasn't enough for her.

"Fuck," he shouted, running his hands over his face. He'd been so close. But with a click of the door, he felt his heart shatter and the tears well in his eyes. He needed a drink.

Spinning on his heel, he began to make his way towards his liquor cabinet but was stopped by the arrival of his mother and daughter who stood in his way.

"Dad," Alexis sighed, resting a hand on his arm comfortingly. Tears of her own slowly slipping down her cheeks.

"You heard everything," he stated, the anger leaving him with nothing but a hollow feeling. Squeezing his daughters hand briefly, he stepped around them to make his way back to his destination.

"Richard, wait."

"I need a drink Mother."

"Okay, but before you bury yourself in the bottom of a bottle could you listen to me first."

Sighing, he swung around and lifted his arms dramatically in the air. "Fine."

"It's not our fault Dad."

Nodding once, he looked at his daughter with shame. "You're right. I'm sorry." His shoulders slumped as he waited for his mother to continue.

"I told you a while ago not to waste another minute," she stated, walking towards him and reaching for his arm to hold him in place. "But you did, and look where that's gotten you. She loves you Richard but she's frightened."

"You don't know that", he argued.

"Yes I do. Everyone can see it but you and her. She is out there right now, breaking, and she needs you."

"She doesn't need me."

"Please," Martha scoffed. "Who did she run to tonight? Who does she always run to when she needs help or when she just needs someone?"

"She left me Mother, or did you miss that part."

"She left because she's scared. That poor woman has been hurt more times then anyone else at her age. She needs you to chase her. Please don't make another mistake, you need to follow her."

"I can't."

"You can. Richard, trust me on this. You need to go after her. And when you find her grab onto her and don't let go, because she only knows how to run. So you have to teach her to stay."

"You're sure?" He asked softly.

"Go dad," Alexis urged, pushing him in the direction of the front door.

Nodding, he span on his heel before racing across the loft, reaching the door and flinging it open. Seeing her by the lift he called to her, hoping she would stop and not step through the soon to be open doors.

"Kate, wait."

Then he ran.

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><p><strong>AN: Don't hurt me, because I know I originally said it would have two parts, but well, it went on a little longer then I thought it would. Would love to know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while, hope I have not lost anybody. This chapters short but the next one will be up in a few days barring any complications. Thank you for the reviews and alerts, they make my day. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Still nothing owned.**

There would be no coming back for them. Not this time. Kate had messed up and made a terrible mistake. One that she knew nothing in the world would be able to rectify, because the damage that had been done was too severe. The line that normally kept them apart becoming undone and blurring to the point of non-existence.

And all for what?

Absolutely nothing had been achieved from her visit, whilst she left only a trail of devastation and broken hearts in her departure. The hate for herself and her actions increasing with every step she took towards the elevator. She felt sick.

It was all her fault, and the knowledge was causing tears to well behind her eyes, blurring her vision slightly. Everything about this mess was laying on her shoulders and her shoulders alone. All because in a moment of weakness, she had allowed the questions that normally surfaced following her dream to frighten her. To force her from the apartment she owned and into his arms.

Where she broke them. Where she broke _him._

And now...

This was how it ended. All of the things they had been through, together. All of the confessions and near death experiences. All of the feelings that they never talked about. Everything, over. Because she knew, with a certainty, that after the events of tonight he wouldn't be there at the station come Monday morning.

_He wouldn't be there ever again_, a voice inside her mind screamed. She wouldn't if it was the other way around. Why should he come back? When had she ever given him a reason to stay? She was simply intent on pushing him back behind that ridiculous line that had been set.

And all because she had rules. Set guidelines that she stuck to and lived her life by. At least had until he'd come along, refusing to be fit inside the carefully constructed mould she had created. Constantly, time and time again he crossed the line, but if she was truthful with herself she was exhausted with keeping him on his side.

She wanted him. She knew that much. That she craved him and cared more then she should, more then she had ever expected to.

But every time she let herself go, something held her back. Locking a set of invisible chains around her and pulling her away from him. She was tired of fighting it, and earlier she had been so close to letting go. To letting him in and having everything she craved, yet at the last minute she had panicked.

And it was all because deep down she knew he was too good for her. That he deserved more than this, more then a broken detective who was fracturing with every passing moment. She was destructive, and nothing but devastation followed her, sucking in those she surrounded herself with and causing them to fall with her.

She was on a slippery slope heading downwards so it was better for him this way, because she knew he wouldn't let her go once she let him in. And she would eventually lose him, causing her to lose herself.

So she'd fled. Pushed him away before he could see just how damaged she really was. Only now as she pressed a hand to her aching chest, she realised that maybe it was too late. Her heart was already involved. It seemed he'd taken it when she hadn't been looking.

"Dammit," she cried in frustration. Pounding her palm against the wall beside the elevator.

She was so confused. She knew this was how it had to be, but there was something inside of her willing her to turn around and go back. Gnawing her bottom lip, she stared at the elevators call button. It was so simple. All she had to was press it and then she would be gone. Out of the building and out of his life.

He would be safe.

But she couldn't do it. Leaning heavily on the wall she lowered her head to feel the cool brick and closed her eyes. What should she do? If she got on the lift then everything about them would be over, but if she stayed, she could fix things. She just wasn't sure she could give him everything he wanted.

Maybe she should go.

"He loves me," she whispered, feeling a tear fall from her eye and roll gently down her check.

"I do."

Pulling away from the wall sharply she wiped her face with a hand and turned, confused. How had she not heard him? "What?" She managed, her eyes flitting over his form as if she couldn't believe he was here.

He was looking at so intently that she had trouble with keeping her gaze on his. But it was as he moved a hand up to wipe away the tear track she had missed on her cheek that she realised what he had done.

If there was one thing she knew about Richard Castle it was this... he never chased after people, content with letting them come to him. But he had come after her. He had changed the rules and his own guidelines... for her, the broken detective.

So call her selfish, she didn't care but as a surge of strength flowed through her, she took his hand from her cheek and made her decision.

It was time she told him the truth.


End file.
